The Oracle
by aspentree11
Summary: When a girl appear's at the McCall's doorstep, hoping to find a brother, chaos seems to close in. Demons, groupies, new relationships, and family starts to stir. Who is this girl? And why does she claim that the least important pack member is apparently the most important?
1. Chapter 1

So, let's face it, every fanfiction starts bad. So just give it time, if you could. Isaac is my favorite character, if anybody wanted to know. Also, I don't believe in favorite-ing or anything like, so if you want more you're going to have to review;)

_**Prologue:**_

She was pretty sure he was breathing. But when she bent down, with her hands shaking and sweat peeling down her neck, she could barely breathe herself. Her heart was hammering in her ears, beating like a drum. She tried to ignore the boy behind her, but all she cared about was him. The boy beneath her, who seemed so small now.

"So this is what you are?" A husky voice said behind her, his voice cracking at the end. "You lied- you lied to all of us." She hesitated at first.

"I didn't lie," she promised, "I was planning on telling you but-" But when she turned her head to look at him, in hope to redeem herself, she choked. His tacky blue and yellow sweatshirt was soaked in blood, and his entire body was shaking. His fingers dug into the wall harshly, as if trying to hold onto something so he wouldn't fall. Every part of her wanted to get up, to walk toward him, but then she glanced at her brother under her. She couldn't move her hand – if she moved, she knew he would die.

"But we're just not good enough for you, right? Not me, not Scott, not Lydia. We're all just little characters in your silly game, right Felicia?" Her mouth parted briefly, her eyes burning with tears. But when she noticed the small drops of water that was spilling down his face wasn't sweat, but yet tears, she found her voice.

"No, no of course not. I didn't know about any of this," she swore, "Please, Stiles, you have to believe me. _Please._" She uncoiled her left hand, the one that wasn't on her brother's bleeding chest, toward him, but Stiles coiled away.

"You expect me to believe that these demon things just coincidentally came into town at the same time you did?" His voice rose. "I'm not that stupid, Felicia!" _You're not stupid at all Stiles_, she wanted to correct, but she couldn't. Instead, she let his last word echo against the stone walls, making her brother let out a shaky breath.

"Fine, fine," she breathed fast, "Maybe I was here for a reason, but you have to listen, Stiles. You need to understand who I am!" His eyes refused to look at hers, but he motioned his head.

"Go ahead," he said hollowly, "Amuse me. I'm going to die anyways, right?" At first she was quiet, her eyes stuck on his, but then she heard herself speak.

"I am the host of The Oracle. I am the host of Delphi."

_**Chapter 1 **_

It was snowing. Her fingers were starting to become a cold white, making her ugly, pale fingers look whiter than they really were. Of course, she would normally just go inside, but instead she found herself facing a burned-out door, and a wet piece of paper between her fingers. She looked down for the thousandth time, reading the number on the piece of paper and then at the mailbox, but she couldn't make herself move. She had been out here, for what? Thirty minutes? Forty-five? It wasn't that big of a deal, but now that she was facing the truth she couldn't move. It was just too much of a stretch. Who would actually believe that their "lost sister" would just suddenly turn up at their doorstep? He would think it was a joke. A sick joke.

"Do you need any help?" A voice echoed behind her. She gasped roughly, spinning on her heel, but as soon as she caught eyes with the boy her feet slipped from under her and she went diving toward the ice. She let out a scream, but then an extra second ticked by and the wind hit her. She opened her eyes slowly. Why was she in the air? She shouldn't have hit the ground? But then her eyes fell above her and she sucked in a breath.

"You okay?" He asked, but she couldn't breathe. Not that he was attractive or anything – blonde curls, lanky type, was probably sixteen feet tall compared to her, but he was proof. He was proof that this was actually going to happen, that she was actually going through with this madness. His eyes were glaring down at her sternly.

"Uh," he said awkwardly, "Maybe we should get you inside. It's kinda cold. Is there any reason you are here?" She couldn't get herself to talk. He lifted her up until her feet were planted on the ground steadily, his eyes hallowing with concern. His long, thin fingers wrapped around her biceps easily. He eyed her short-sleeved shirt and shorts wildly, nodding his head.

"Yes, I should definitely get you inside," he muttered under his breath, more to himself this time. She let him pull her into the house, slowly unlocking it and then carefully pushing her in. When she reached into the house she heard the television playing, "_NASA gives no information why the moon is yellowing! If-"_

"Who's that?" A voice interrupted. Her eyes fell toward the couch in front of her. Slowly, a boy lifted himself up. Immediately, her eyes widened. At first she only saw his brown hair, which was wild from laying on the couch, but then she digested the rest of him. She wanted to say something, anything, but she couldn't.

"She was kinda just laying outside," the boy behind her said, shrugging awkwardly, "I didn't know what to do. I mean, I couldn't just leave her there. I think she's sick. I hope you aren't mad that I-"

"No," the other boy on the couch said firmly, "No, it's a blizzard outside. She shouldn't be out there anyways." _Blizzard? _She thought to herself. _They were in a blizzard? _She wasn't expecting that. She had been trying to keep in touch with the rest of the world lately, but since she had been traveling mostly on foot and hasn't had any contact with anybody it is sort've hard to keep track of the rest of the planet.

"Okay, well," the boy behind her said shakily, "What the heck do I do with her?" The other boy leaped from the couch, sighing.

"Come on," he beckoned, taking hold of her and leading her toward the kitchen.

"What's your name?" He asked seriously, seating her down. "Is there anyone I can…call?" She bit her lip. Was this the moment to speak?

"No," she said, her eyes wandering on the dark-haired boy wildly, "No. I just needed to speak to you." We look alike, she thought – both with brown hair and brown eyes. Both of them had tan skin, and sure was positive that the defensive look in his eyes was identical to hers. But he didn't look broken, like her. He looked like he was raised well.

"Me?" He sputtered, but than his eyes darkened. "Look, if this is about one of the pa-"

"No," she cut off quickly, before he could say any more, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to come like this." _Maybe I should just leave_, she thought to herself. But then she looked around. A warm house, a decent living room, a television, a full kitchen. He wasn't wearing a shirt, but his jeans didn't seem too tattered up. He was clean, he was taken care of. He deserved to know.

"Should we take you to the hospital?" He asked, the same look reflecting in his eyes as the blonde boy's had.

"No, no," she said, her eyes looking around the house again, "I just…I think we're siblings. My name is Felicia." The boy let out a low laugh.

"I'm sorry," he said, stepping awkwardly, "I think you're at the wrong house. I don't have any siblings, trust me, I'd know." He gave her a crooked smile, as if she was so wrong that it was humorous, and a thrust of anger pulled through her.

"Wait, I know it sounds weird," she said quickly, "But you live here don't you? My friend told me my brother lived here. She came out a week ago and helped me…helped me track you down." Her eyes bored into his deeply. For a second, just for a second, the boy's eyes flickered.

"I know you probably think-"

"You live here, don't you?" She asked sharply, bolting to her feet. The blonde boy beside her stepped back, as if she was a wild animal.

"Yes," the brown-haired boy said nervously, "Yeah, but I'm pretty sure I would know if I had any siblings."

"You go to high school here, don't you? Seventeen years old? You hang out with a redhead?" She heard her voice crack. "I'm sorry, but I didn't come this far for someone to tell me that I'm wrong. I've been searching for you for…for forever." The brown haired boy exhaled.

"And you were born here, weren't you? I was too! And I mean I know you don't live with dad, but-"

"My dad's side? Wait, you're from my – I mean, you're looking for somebody who you share a dad with?" The boy's face was starting to turn red.

"Yes!" She said, a smile cracking onto her lips. "Half-sibling. I was in foster care though. I see that you weren't…" His hands clenched the counter.

"But that isn't possible. My dad…"

"I should have found you when he was alive, but-" But then she realized how his face filled with reassurance, and his breath took a normal pace. Her eyebrows furrowed down.

"Wait, you didn't know dad was dead?" She asked, her voice small. He shook his head quickly, a small scrawling on his lips.

"No, my dad is alive," he said, and he dug hand into his pockets, and pulled out his wallet, "My name is Scott McCall. See?" The small paper that she had kept between her fingers.

"Scott?" She breathed. "Then who is Isaac?" And then the boy's smile died again, but this time instead of looking at her, he looked toward the entrance of his kitchen.

"That," a more husky voice said, "is me. I am Isaac." Her eyes turned toward the doorway, looking at the blonde again.

Suddenly she found herself searching him twice as hard as she was when she was internally dying outside of the house. His curls weren't blonde, they were copper. And his eyes were a stale blue that looked far too serious compared to his white skin and she wondered where he got his height – his mom's side or their dad's? He didn't look like the guy who'd wear polo shirts and American Eagle jeans either. Instead, he came off as the guy who'd be more likely to wear a sweater and whatever pants that weren't dirty that day. He was made for the cold, she thought to herself, with his thin but strong statue that made him appear handsome in cuddly clothes. He didn't seem threatening, but he was strong. He wasn't going to be the one to take the first hit unless he had to, and it would be a strong hit if he did. He was not a leader, he was a soldier.

He didn't look surprised as much as he did horrified. Maybe even scared. But for some reason she wasn't. Carefully, she crossed the kitchen, as if she was approaching a small animal.

"Hello Isaac," she said softly, "My name is Felicia. It's nice to finally meet you."

"


	2. Chapter 2

Between the shades that blocked the sun from her bed, rays of sunlight bursted through. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open. For a small second, her heart beat fast. Where was she? She's in a room, she realized quickly. Not her room. It's morning time. How did she get here? She clenched the messy bed sheets under her, looking around anxiously, but then she remembered the rest of last night. She took a deep breath, the memory coming back into her head of after she had told him the truth.

_"Oh," was the first thing he had said. His eyes, which seem to darken the longer he looked at her, eyed her up and down continuously, as if trying to find some hidden lie. Deep inside, she wanted to squirm. It was like he was dissecting her. _

_ "I apologize," she had sputtered suddenly, throwing her palm to her forehead, "I shouldn't have came so abruptly. I wanted to come in hope to have some closure from my biological father, and I thought it was a good opportunity to meet you as well. But I should've called or emailed or-"_

_ "You think?" Isaac had commented snappily, catching her by surprise. A tickle of sweat peeled down her neck._

_ "Isaac," she had heard Scott scold, but Isaac's eyes were glaring down on her._

_ "I've never even heard of you," Isaac murmured, shaking his head wildly, "My father has never brought you up."_

_ "I don't know," she said in response, "I was put in foster care almost immediately. After my mom left, and ou—my dad refused to take care of me, I was on my own." Something flickered in his eyes, as if he was thinking of something in particular, but he didn't say a word. _

_ "I think what Isaac is trying to say is," Scott interrupted, "Isaac isn't exactly ready for somebody in his life right now. He's going through a hard time." Isaac's head snapped toward him defensively, his lips curling back as if he was about to growl. _

_ "Maybe come back during the summer?" Scott said, ignoring him. "When everything in our lives are cooling down."_

_ "The summer isn't going to stop the full moons." She didn't mean to say it. She sucked in her breath, her hand about to close around her mouth. She was tired, she was sore. She seemed to have forgotten how to control her mind for more than two seconds. Her face blushed. Suddenly, Isaac leaped toward her, flickering his index finger at her aggressively. _

_ "She knows!" He shouted. "How does she know, Scott? Was this set up? Did you tell her? Did Peter do this? Did you…"_

_ "Calm down," Scott demanded suddenly, but when he looked back at her his eyes were murderous, "How do you know this? Are you really his sister?" _

_ "Yes, of course I'm his sister! I'm sorry. I didn't…"_

_ "What then? How do you know? Are you from another pack?" _

_ "No, no, I'm not a werewolf. I had a friend watch Isaac for about three weeks," She explained quickly, "I always believed in werewolves. I wasn't surprised." It was a lame excuse, a fast cover up, but their anxiousness calmed down. Isaac slid back, leaning against the counter casually. He doesn't believe me, she thought to herself. He thinks I'm a phony. I should've kept it to myself._

_ "I think you should go to sleep," Scott decided, "You look like you're about to drop." At first she was frozen, ready to object, but then she nodded. _

_ "Alright, I hope I'll be able to see you guys again," she mumbled as she stepped toward the doorway, but then Scott caught her shoulder. _

_ "No, I meant here," Scott said, "I'm not going to throw you out."_

_ "What?" She heard Isaac object, but Scott ignored her. _

_ "You can stay in my room," he insisted, "Upstairs, the door to the left." She nodded, and before she could say anymore, she walked away. _

She took a deep breath. Quickly, her eyes shot toward the window. How fast did she have to be to climb out of the window without anybody noticing? Did she have enough time? She looked at her wrist, but then she groaned. She got rid of her watch days ago.

"Er, Felicia?" She jumped jerkily, knocking into Scott's bedside table. She choked down a painful screech.

"Are you okay?" The voice continued, knocking on the door.

"Yes," she managed to say. Slowly, the door opened. Her heart started to flutter, unsure if she was ready to see who it was, but when the head popped in she realized it was just Scott. A part of her was happy, but then there was a boiling tremble in her stomach.

"Uh, we have to go to school, but-"

"School? I'm enrolled!" She said it too eagerly, her voice rising harshly into the air. His eyebrows furrowed, and her cheeks darkened.

"I mean," she stumbled, "I got enrolled yesterday before I got here. I was planning on staying a bit." Scott nodded his head slowly.

"Alright," he said, "Are you coming then?" She nodded hesitantly.

"Just give me about five minutes."

(insert three dashes here)

"Why the heck are we taking her to school anyways?" She heard five minutes later when she started rushing to Scott's car. Isaac was sitting next to him in the passenger seat, his face determined to face away from her.

_Stupid_, she thought to herself, _they think I can't hear them_.

"Because she needs a ride," Scott answered dryly, "Why else?" Isaac opened his mouth, but then Felicia pulled open the door. As she pulled her purse and her empty book bag into the car, she saw Scott smile at her through the rearview mirror. Their eyes held a little bit too long, and she could feel the warmth feeling her cheeks, but then—

"OPEN THE DOOR!" A voice shouted. She jumped to the side, gasping.

"Oh god, they are already here," she breathed under her breath, but when her eyes fell toward the window, a large frame shifted away from her. He was tall, with dark buzzed cut hair and eyes that glanced back and forth wildly. His hand tapped at Scott's window violently. Quickly, Scott rolled down the window.

"You scared the living-"

"I need my car back," the boy replied quickly. Scott took a large breath, as if recovering from the incident as well.

"Why? I'm driving it to school," Scott said back.

"Why are you driving it to school?" The boy spat back. Scott tilted his head at him.

"It's a Monday, Stiles," he said slowly, "Meaning school. Anyways, I thought you were going to stay home." The boy's, Stiles, eyebrows scrunched down.

"Oh," he blurted, "Well, I wouldn't have given it to you if I knew it was a Monday. Can I hop in? Especially since it's my car? Because I—Who the heck is _she_?" At first she was confused, but then she realized he meant her. Both pairs of eyes looked back at her.

"I mean, I know you were desperate and all man," Stiles's voice lowered, "But if you needed to you know, get a girl, I could hook you up. You didn't have to pick up a random girl from the street."

"What?" Scott objected. "No, she's not a girl I hooked up with. She's, well, you should probably ask Isaac." Stiles' eyes shot to Isaac wildly.

"_You _have a girlfriend?"

"No!" Isaac and Felicia said together. Isaac whipped his head at her angrily, and she adverted her eyes.

"Get in, Loser," Isaac grumbled, "Before I throw a shoe at you."

"A shoe?" Stiles laughed, shoving himself into the back seat, "What happened to the mega scary claws—_Oh_." His voice shifted quickly, realizing again that she was in the car.

"Don't worry about it," Scott told him, "She already knows." Stiles shifted back.

"You know?! What are you?" Stiles sneered at her suddenly, tilting back as if she was a radioactive zombie. "Dangit, everybody around here is a werewolf! Why can't I be anything cool?!"

"Actually," Felicia interrupted, a small smile playing on her lips, "I'm not a werewolf. I'm just…" She was going to say Oracle, but then she realized how utterly ordinary she was supposed to be.

"She's a normal person," Scott said simply, "A completely normal person." But as he said it, she couldn't help but here the uncertain tone in his voice.

"Okay, then can someone tell me why she is here?" Stiles asked loudly.

"She's nobody," Isaac said, but at the same exact time she said, "I'm Isaac's sister." And before Stiles could even muster a reply, they pulled up to an over flooded ratty building that couldn't_ not_ be the high school.

(insert three dashes here)

"Did you know Isaac had a sister?" Stiles whispered loudly to a petite red-headed female in front of them – Lydia, Felicia thought her name was. Around them, she passed the jocks, the theater junkies, a couple nerds. But mostly she was passing random, useless, niave teenagers. She couldn't help but think about how blind they are. There were a handful of werewolves in their school, and the two thousand students didn't even know it.

"Where did you come from?" Lydia asked her, ignoring Stiles, "Because we really have to do something about that wardrobe if you're really going to hang out with us." Felicia struggled not to roll her eyes.

"She didn't have time to change, Lydia," Scott said to her defense, "She came in the middle of the night." Lydia jumped a couple feet away.

"Ew, you're wearing dirty clothes? Like, you didn't even take a shower today?" Lydia squeeled in disgust. Felicia took a deep breath, but the other redhead beside her – a taller girl, with more of a frame compared to Lydia – rested her hand on Felicia's shoulder reassuringly.

"It's okay, if you need to borrow some clothes I can take you by my house later," she insisted. Felicia shook her head.

"No," Felicia said, "I have some stuff at where I'm staying."

"Why don't you stay there, then?" Isaac scuffed under his breath. She ignored him.

"Why are you here?" Lydia continued. Allison shot her a dark look, but Felicia didn't hesitate to answer.

"Just wanted to get to know my family," she said simply. She felt Isaac's eyes on her loathingly, but she wouldn't give in.

"Hey, can I see your schedule?" Stiles asked. Hesitantly, she gave him the ball she had crumpled, out of nervousness, her schedule into. She blushed when she realized how wet it was, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Who are you staying with?" Lydia asked. "I mean, since you have no family in all."

"Lydia!" Allison snapped.

"What?" Lydia spat. "It's true. The only persons he has is Isaac and…well…"

"Hey! You got me and Isaac in first period!" Stiles declared, before Felicia could answer. She gave him a small smile.

"Yay," she cheered, though the enthusiasm in her voice was weak. Everybody started to stop as the hallway started to shift into two.

"We'll see you guys later?" Stiles asked Scott, Allison, and Lydia. Scott saluted, Allison smiled, but Lydia kept walking as if nothing had ever talked to her. Stiles' smile died slowly as their bodies started to fade into the next hall.

"You like her," Felicia said aloud. Stiles nodded.

"A lot," he mumbled, "But that's Lydia for you. A cold heartless shrew."

"Come on," Isaac said, his voice like ice, "We have to go to Lit." He shoved past both of them angrily.

"Dang, somebody woke up on the wrong side of his tail," Stiles spat at him as Isaac opened the door to Lit.

"Well," a monotone voice drawled, "I'm glad you could make it Stilinski. You too Lahey. And you?" Isaac and Stiles moved out of my hurriedly, hurrying to their chairs. Felicia stood there awkwardly, gaping. Thirty students stared at her harshly, and she couldn't help but wonder if they were judging her.

"My name is Felicia Porter," Her voice crackled, "I—I'm new." She winced when her voice echoed back into her ears. She probably came off weak. The teacher, a thin sallow-looking guy, raised his eyebrows.

"You can sit in the back with," the man paused for a second, and then said dramatically, "_Stilinski._" Stilinski's eyes narrowed at him as the people around him snickered, and she thought for just a second that his cheeks blushed.

"Come on," he said under his breath. She followed him down the long, jagged line of desks, until she made it to the last two.

"Why were they laugh-" But then she saw the word 'dunce' written on a sheet taped to the front of his desk. And not only to add to that, but a few people from a couple rows away started throwing little paper balled at him. Her eyes narrowed at them as she sunk back into her seat. Stiles pretended not to make eye contact with him.

"So this is what high school is here?" She asked. He snatched a tiny ball in mid air and threw it back.

"Basically. Magical, isn't it?" He sneered sarcastically. She peeked a small smile.

"Well, I mean, considering your little condition," she implied, "I would expect you to be all, you know, intimidating." He pursed his lips.

"That's the pack," he mumbled, "Not me. I'm ordinary." He looked away from her, as if to say that the conversation was over, so she turned her head to the students around her. They all looked just as the movies explained it. Some wore the trends, some wore the doctor who shirts, some were just there. But for the most part, they all looked the same to her. Not meaning to, her eyes fell to Isaac. He was in the front, not even bothering to make eye contact to the people around him. Was that his survival instinct? She wondered.

"Hey, sweetheart?" A voice cooed. She turned her head toward the voice, meeting eyes with a tall, lanky boy with red hair.

"Where are you from?" She felt her cheeks warm up. She bit her lip.

"Far," she said shortly. She tried turning her head, but he called her back.

"Wait," he objected, "My name is Garrett. Garrett Lim. How about you?" She took a deep breath before answering.

"Felicia," she said simply, "Felicia Porter."

"Well, Felicia Porter," the boy said flirtatiously, "How about you sit with me at lunch?" Her lips tightened.

"Sorry, but I think I'm fine," she declined nicely, but almost immediately she saw how the boy's eyes flickered toward Stiles.

"Yeah, we'll see about that," she heard him murmur. She felt a small tinge – a quick heat of anger – overcome here but quickly she concealed it. You have to be calm, she remembered, it was her only way she would survive.

"Will this class be over any slower?"

(insert three dashes here)

She wished she hadn't wished for it to come quicker. Forty-five minutes later she found herself in a chem lab, sitting next to some boy named Harris Faulkner. Of course, he wasn't mean really. He was just…

"Can you—can you pass me the vinegar?" he said to her. They were doing a lab, and the guy couldn't say two words to her without stammering.

"Yeah, sure," she said in a bored tone, "Be careful." He took it jerkily, as if afraid to touch her. They were doing some sort of weird lab, which she couldn't give two cents about. All she knew was that none of the people in the pack that she had met so far was in this class. She couldn't risk that, she realized. She had to make sure they were in more classes with her. She had a job to do, and she needed to do it fast.

"Ju-just need two tea-spoons of th-this liquid…" she heard Harris mumble beside her. And what about Isaac? She thought to herself. What was she going to do about him? He hated her basically, for whatever reason. She would make sure she found out why though, she would make sure she did.

"An—And a teaspoon of this," Harris stammered, "And mix it with…" But Stiles was pretty nice. Of course, he wasn't Mr. Hotshot, but he was sort of cute in his own way. His cute little buzzcut, with his puppy-like personality. How could anybody not like him? She shook her head to herself. Did Lydia even know what she was missing out on?

"Now, finally…" Harris' voice shook. And Scott wasn't too bad. He did let her stay on his couch. And Allison was pretty sweet. But she couldn't let herself get too attached to these people. She was here for a mission. She had to get what she needed, and just leave. But what about Isaac? He was fairly interesting. But no, no, she didn't care about him. He was just a boy—

"OW!" she let out suddenly. She didn't hear the clash of glass beside her, making the stupid liquid beside her to spill.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! I'm so so so sorry!" The boy beside her yelled, "Oh my gosh, are you okay?" Everybody stopped and stared back at her. The stinging was not near as bad as the people staring. The teacher looked at her concerningly.

"You need to go to the nurse," the teacher insisted, "Harris, how about you-"

"It's okay, I've had this happen before at my old school," she lied, gritting her teeth harshly, "I just need to rinse my arm off, is that okay?" The teacher waved her quickly, and she shoved herself out of the room. She let out a painful breath when she made it to the hallway, nearly falling to the ground. She stared down at her arm – it was tomato red.

She was planning on going to the bathroom, but she didn't care anymore – she just needed to rinse off her arm. She flung herself toward the nearest water fountain, letting the water rinse over her arm. At first it stung worse, causing her to let out a loud shriek of pain, but then her muscles started to loosen and the pain started to seize.

"Ah," she said in relief, "Jesus christ that-"

But then suddenly a hand covered over her lips. She was shoved back into the air, her body far above the ground. Two arms wrapped around her tightly, trapping her against the kidnapper's body. She sucked in a ragged breath, jerking against the person's body, but the arms were wrapped so tightly against her she couldn't even move. She was about to turn her head, to at least catch sight of the holder, but than a black veil was shoved against her eyes. She tried to scream, but the cold hands were glued to her mouth, suffocating her. Her feet barely touched the ground. It was black. _So _black. But she could still hear the fuzzy voices coming out of the classrooms around her and could barely feel the marble that dragged against her toes. She was in school, she reminded herself. Somebody would see her. Somebody would notice.

Who was it? Was it them? Were they already there? They told her she had two weeks. They lied, she thought to herself, it was a trap. This wasn't about discovering the werewolves. This was about killing the Oracle. As the words echoed into her head, she stopped moving. Instead, she let the body drag her against the marble. One of the arms that were around her uncoiled and she heard a door open. She gasped as her body flew to the floor, crashing into her so hard that she lost her breath. Her hands itched for the ground, and she clung to it before yanking off the black veil.

"You insolent little-" But then when she lifted her head and looked at the towering shadow above her, she forgot what she was about to say.

"Isaac?" she said hoarsely. His eyes were adverted away from her, and instead was looking at the mass amount of cleaning supplies that crowded around them. She was tempted to bring the back of her hand to her nose to stop the fumes from fogging her airways, but she hesitated. She had to look strong in front of him.

"A janitor's closet?" She asked, an edge hanging in her voice. "You couldn't have just talked to me at lunch? You had to lock me in a janitor's closet?" She rose from the dusty ground, swiping God-Knows-What-Crap off her jeans. His stale blue eyes were still stuck on the walls. Something flickered in his eyes, a kind of anxiousness, and she wondered if it was because of her.

"It was the only place we could talk by ourselves," he mumbled. She squinted.

"What are you talking about?" She asked, trying to keep the anger out of her voice but failed. "I'm freaking living down the hall from you. You couldn't talk to me then?" He shot her a dark look.

"People are always around us. Scott, Stiles, all of them," he hissed, "And I just…"

"You didn't have the nerve to just talk to me?" Not that it didn't make sense. She knew he had been ignoring her, but she didn't expect this. His pale lips pressed together firmly.

"I need to know who you are," he growled back, "You come to my house – well, Scott's house, and tell me you're my sister? That's crazy! Who even are you? Where did you come from? Why haven't I ever met you before?" The anxiousness slowly left his eyes the faster his spoke.

"Why now? It's not like my dad died yesterday," he continued, "He's been dead for a while." She swallowed.

"I don't know," she said, "I just felt like it was time to meet you." The words were stale on her tongue, but they came out perfectly. He finally stared at her, boring into her eyes harshly. She was tempted to look away, but she knew he wasn't looking at her like this to be mean, but because it was his first time truly seeing her.

"What if I didn't want anyone meeting me? What if I just wanted everybody to leave me alone?"

"Why would you want that?" She asked back. "Aren't you tired of being alone?" His jaw tightened.

"I'm not alone," he growled at her, "I have a pack. Which you seem to know a lot about, by the way."

"My apologizes, are you implying something?" She snapped back. Out of nowhere, he rose his fist and banged it against a pile of toilet paper. She shrieked as they started to fall down, but he stood there motionless.

"_Implying _something? I'm wondering why you're stalking me," he said, "Tell me the truth!" He grabbed her jerkily, and shoved her toward the shelf. She gritted her teeth angrily, and she could feel her own powers starting to stir. Keep calm, a voice said to her, you have to keep calm. But she couldn't, she wanted to say. She refused to be treated like this.

But then she heard the scream. Like a banshee screeching at the top of its lungs, "HELP!" For some odd reason she knew nobody else could hear the voice. And that the voice needed her especially. It was her job to save the individual.

Without a hesitation, she yanked herself out of the grip and raced toward the voice.


End file.
